


Between Uncomplicated and Complicated

by pancakedispatcher



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Feelings, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Realisation of feelings, Romance, Soppy, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakedispatcher/pseuds/pancakedispatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can’t tell you how long he’s been in love with Bucky.</p><p>Of course, years from now, in an interview, he won’t say that. He’ll spin a romantic tale about how he knew from the moment he saw Bucky - bold, daring and beautiful as he socked the guy beating on Steve right in the face, leaving him to scamper off with a crooked and bloody nose, his tail between his legs. But that isn’t the truth, not really. </p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>A soppy drabble about how Steve and Bucky knew - or, rather, didn't - that they loved each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Uncomplicated and Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a fic so please don't shoot me. 
> 
> This is the result of procrastination, sleep depravity and a sudden on-set of Stucky feels that needed to be written down. I hope it's okay???
> 
> Completely un-beta'd and written at like 1 AM so there will probably be typos. 
> 
> There's also a really, very mild and subtle spoiler for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and some very brief and non-graphic descriptions of death.

Steve can’t tell you how long he’s been in love with Bucky.

 

Of course, years from now, in an interview, he won’t say that. He’ll spin a romantic tale about how he knew from the moment he saw Bucky - bold, daring and beautiful as he socked the guy beating on Steve right in the face, leaving him to scamper off with a crooked and bloody nose, his tail between his legs. But that isn’t the truth, not really.

 

Sure, part of Steve argues that he’s always been in love with one James Buchanan Barnes, but that’s the soppy, romantic part of him that cries at The Notebook and dreamt of a white picket fence house as a child.

 

No, there is no definitive, life-altering moment that Steve can look at and say, yes, that right there, that’s when I knew I could never love anyone but Bucky. He cannot draw a line in his life, one side before his grand revelation and the other after, between uncomplicated and complicated. Maybe, if they’d been born this side of the millennium, things would have been different, and he could have realised his feelings; no matter how much people romanticised the 30’s, the internalised homophobia and fear of a boot to the face made it really difficult to figure out if one was hopelessly, ridiculously in love with their very male best friend.

 

It was a sudden, slow realisation, that crept up on Steve at an agonising pace, causing his years growing up to be filled with confusion, disgust and regret. It was a combination of things, really - the thought that maybe, if seeing Bucky’s patented lady-killer smile made him want to up-chuck all over his shoes, their friendship - at least, on his side anyway - wasn’t as platonic as it should be. The realisation that perhaps normal friends didn’t get a knot of butterfly-riddled anxiety deep in their stomach when they hugged, as Steve did. Being enlightened by the fact that when he stared at Bucky’s lips, wondering how they felt (were they smooth like Bucky said all the girl’s were, or rough and chaste from the harsh winter air), it couldn’t be passed off as ‘boys being boys’.

 

Of course, if he was absolutely forced to give one moment when it all clicked into place, he’d probably tell you it was when he saw Bucky - still bold, daring and beautiful - falling to his death, blue eyes filled with the horror that Steve felt in every cell in his body as he realised that was it, that was the end of the line. Because that’s when Steve truly knew that he could never live without Bucky by his side.

 

Perhaps, then, it was - in some kind of cruel and twisted way, as things often were in Steven Grant Roger’s life - a blessing in disguise that Steve crashed into the icy depths a day later, because not even the feeling of the gnawing cold that washed over him, seeping through his skin and into the very core of his bones, could be worse than the feeling of emptiness he’d had since Bucky fell.

 

 

~~~~~~~

 

 

Bucky can’t tell you how long he’s been in love with Steve.

 

Of course, years from now, in an interview, he won’t say that. He’ll spin a romantic tale about how he knew from the moment he saw Steve - bold, daring and beautiful as he stuck up his match-stick arms, ready to fight (or, rather, attempt to) a guy twice his size over the honour of the young lady this guy has ‘used the wrong tone with’. But that isn’t the truth, not really.

 

Sure, part of Bucky argues that he’s always been in love with one Steven Grant Rogers, but that’s the soppy, romantic part of him that sniffles (Bucky Barnes doesn’t cry, thank you very much) at P.S I Love You and dreamt of family picnics in Prospect Park as a child.

 

No, there is no definitive, life-altering moment that Bucky can look at and say, yes, that right there, that’s when I knew I could never love anyone but Steve. He cannot draw a line in his life, one side before his grand revelation and the other after, between uncomplicated and complicated. Maybe, if they’d been born this side of the millennium, things would have been different, and he would have realised his feelings; no matter how much people romanticised the 30’s, the internalised homophobia and fear of a bottle round the head made it really difficult to figure out if one was hopelessly, ridiculously in love with their very male best friend.

 

It was a sudden, slow realisation, that crept up on Bucky at an agonising pace, causing his years growing up to be filled with confusion, disgust and regret. It was a combination of things, really - the thought that maybe, if seeing Steve’s coy, lopsided grin made him want to barf all over his shoes, their friendship - at least, on his side anyway - wasn’t as platonic as it should be. The realisation that perhaps normal friends didn’t feel a shot of warmth travel their body - right from the tips of their ears to the ends of their toes - when they hugged, as Bucky did. Being enlightened by the fact that when he stared at Steve’s lips, wondering how they felt (were they smooth like the ones of the numerous girls Bucky had sneaked kisses off of in back alleys and cinemas, or rough and chaste from the harsh winter air), it couldn’t be passed off as ‘boys being boys’.

 

Of course, if he was absolutely forced to give one moment when it all clicked into place, he’d probably tell you it was when he saw Steve - still bold, daring and beautiful - staring down at Bucky from the train as he himself fell to his death, Steve’s blue eyes filled with the horror that Bucky felt in every cell in his body as he realised that was it, that was the end of the line. Because that’s when Bucky truly knew that, at that moment, he didn’t care if he died an agonising death, because it meant that Steve was safe and alive, and could maybe one day have that white picket fence house he’d dreamt of as a child.

 

Perhaps, then, it was - in some kind of cruel and twisted way, as things often were in James Buchanan Barnes’ life - a blessing in disguise that Bucky had fell to his death when he did, because not even the feeling of ice-cold dread that settled in Bucky’s chest like a tonne of bricks as he crashed towards his death (or, so he and Steve had thought)could have been worse than the emptiness he would have felt had he been around to see Steve plummet into the ocean, his fate sealed in an icy coffin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So that happened. 
> 
> Sorry that it doesn't really have a happy ending!
> 
> Any comments are great and totally welcome but please don't slaughter me if I slaughtered this ship; I'd like to employ my asexual/aromantic status as a defence if I did.


End file.
